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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250743">A Man in Uniform</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0'>AnotherAnon0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Complicated Affair [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Writing, Boot Worship, Hate Sex, M/M, Master/Slave, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, Rough Oral Sex, S&amp;M, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Top Sergei/Bottom Wesker, Verbal Humiliation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:26:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert finds himself fascinated by Sergei's old military uniform.</p><p>A bit too fascinated.</p><p>[Creating a series to add any and all Wesker/Sergei fics I write. Nothing has to be read in any particular order, and they are not necessarily in the same HC universe. :) ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sergei Vladimir/Albert Wesker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Complicated Affair [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Man in Uniform</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/me_Margaret/gifts">me_Margaret</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If his first mistake had been deciding to wait for the Colonel in his quarters, Albert's second had been giving into his incessant curiosities. </p><p>The door to the elaborate Spencer estate bedroom had been open, though it was sheer, childish entitlement that had lured Albert into helping himself a seat in the green-leather tufted reading chair at the far end of the room. He had huffed and crossed his legs, awaiting the other man's presence for the impromptu <em>meeting.</em></p><p><em>Meeting</em>.</p><p>Rather, a rant from Albert on the Colonel's unprompted verbal lashing of Dr. Birkin having driven the man into a two-day depression. Birkin had locked himself in his room with a box of <em>pinot noir</em> and had been utterly useless in the laboratory since. </p><p>But as minutes seeped into an hour, and that hour into more minutes, Albert found himself getting restless. His eyes had traced every visible object in the room -- as sparsely furnished and decorated as it was -- multiple times, and the hollow din of nothingness began to chide him for his ridiculous persistence. He'd risen from the chair with the self-convinced intention of simply stretching his tired legs, but began wandering around the room idly in impotent paces of increasing frustration over the man's tardiness to a meeting he hadn't even known was to occur.</p><p>And then he saw it. The small, black-framed photo on the bedside table had been so nondescript, slipped beside the lamp, that it had almost entirely escaped his attention. The tiniest glint of sunlight on the glass face called his eye, turning his head and pausing his body. A few slow, long strides had placed him over it, looming tepidly as he tried to make out the image beyond the sheen of sunlight's glare. Finally, he gave into temptation and snatched the frame up from the table, assessing its contents closely. </p><p>It was an old photo -- the colours faded and washed out. But the faces of the two, uniformed men depicted were clear. One, a young, silver-haired man Albert was sure he'd seen around the facilities before but couldn't recall the name of, beaming a white-toothed grin over his shoulder, through the film. The other, standing just behind him, was unmistakably Sergei, stoic face adorned with a small, self-satisfied smirk as he looked on at something just outside the frame.</p><p>Albert thought it was odd, seeing the Colonel in anything but the monochromatic grey-and-black Umbrella-issued clothes that had become so ubiquitous with his being that Albert almost regarded them as his very flesh. The deep green of the uniform was striking, polished gold buttons and red-embroidered patches providing bursts of colour on the felt fabric. On his left breast, neat rows of various, elaborate commendations with intricate, colourful ribbons that complimented the decorated brim of the peaked cap that was somewhat tousled on his head.</p><p>
  <em>He does look good.</em>
</p><p>Albert caught the thought as it floated through the front of his mind wistfully, finding his eyes lingering on the top-most button of the green jacket, straining just barely visible as it fastened across the tremendous breadth of the man's wide chest. </p><p>A small lump began to form at the back of his throat as he swatted at another involuntary thought like it were an impudent insect, internally chastising himself for having come to the Colonel's quarters in the first place. </p><p>"My <em>Nikolay </em>was receiving a medal for bravery in the war. There was a celebration."</p><p>The deep, rolling, accented voice cut through the silence of the room, causing Albert's head to snap to the side in surprise. Sergei was standing just through the threshold of the doorframe, arms folded behind his perfectly straight back. There was an expression on his face dancing between pensive and sardonic amusement. </p><p>Albert quickly replaced the photo on the bedside table, awkwardly fumbling with it as he tried to get it to stand. He cleared his throat and quickly strode towards the doorway with the purposeful intent to exit as quickly as possible, but the path to the hallway was still blocked by Sergei's incredible frame. The older man pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side in silence as though awaiting a conversation which hadn't yet manifested.</p><p>"Move out of my way, Sergei." Albert crossed his arms.</p><p>"Was there something you needed... <em>comrade</em>?"</p><p>"What?" Albert spat, brow furrowing in righteous arrogance.</p><p>"You are in <em><strong>my </strong></em>bedroom, comrade."</p><p>Albert cast his gaze over his shoulder, reality settling in the form of a bed as his eyes slowly blinked behind his dark glasses.</p><p>"Oh... I--" He cleared his throat, somewhat relieved when he turned back to find Sergei moving away from the doorframe.</p><p>"I forgot."</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>Dreams were pesky things.</p><p>Albert had resolved that long ago, but as he sat awake in the darkened hovel of his bedroom, he began to mull over potential pharmaceutical interventions for the pesky nighttime visions that plagued him now more than ever.</p><p>The photograph had been a catalyst for dreams that had planted seeds in Albert's mind like he was a human greenhouse, sprouting them rapidly. The winding, creeping vines that had emerged from the potent soil of fantasy had wrapped their thick tendrils around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter with every day that passed. </p><p>At night, they were particularly cruel -- squeezing tighter and tighter until he felt himself unable to breathe. </p><p>Unable to breathe, that is, until he submitted and slipped a hand past the banded waist of his briefs. The moment he did oxygen would come flooding into his lungs as a cruel reward.</p><p>
  <em>He does look good.</em>
</p><p>During the day, Albert pointedly avoided the older man. While that was somewhat the norm in their toxic, adversarial relationship, it was a burden knowing it was now for different reasons altogether. Boardroom meetings would find his eyes persistently sinking towards the man's meticulously polished boots, the jet-black surface reflecting glinting fluorescent lights like sunshine casting its beams through a thunderous abyss of clouds.</p><p>That day, he'd ended up at Sergei's quarters again, assured he had a reason. </p><p><em>Poor Dr. Birkin</em>.</p><p>But more than anything, Albert wanted to prove to himself the photograph incident had been a fluke -- a self-imposed ruse. Something which had no basis in reality. Accosting Sergei on a professional matter was precisely what he felt was needed, and he knocked confidently at the ajar wooden door before entering. </p><p>The righteous, confident smirk on his face <em>immediately</em> melted.</p><p>"Oh, hello, comrade." Sergei smirked, twisting the cap on a small, glass bottle. "How can I help you <em>this time</em>?"</p><p>Albert cleared his throat, trying desperately but futilely to avoid eye contact with the uniform splayed out on Sergei's bed. The pants were folded neatly beside the jacket, which was bare of medals save for the elaborate embroidered patches of gold and red thread. The plentiful commendations once affixed to the material were neatly sorted beside the jacket's arm, and the faint smell of jewellery cleanser began to tickle Albert's nose. A peaked cap, decorated with intricate gold leaf decals and a glittering Soviet insignia was set atop the collar of the jacket. At the foot of the bed, a pair of high-legged boots were set beside a bottle of leather cleaner and brush.</p><p>A headache began to drum through Albert's head, beating at his temples with increasing aggressiveness. Internally, he was waging a war with the heat that was starting to bubble up his throat, making a race for his cheeks. </p><p>"Do not mind me and my military habits." Sergei said flatly, "We would clean our dress uniforms at least once per week, even if we did not wear them. I am an old soldier stuck in old ways."</p><p>The Russian set the bottle of cleanser down on the nearby vanity, picking up a white rag and wiping his hands. When the other man's silence still had not been broken, the eyebrow over his unscarred eye cocked in curiosity.</p><p>"Is something bothering you, comrade?" Sergei tossed the rag onto the bed, slow, dutiful steps drawing him closer to Albert, "You have seemed... <em>distracted</em> as of late."</p><p>The sound of the older man's boots on the tile floor reverberated through Albert's temples, echoing the methodic, throbbing beat of his migraine. </p><p>"Your medals -- what are they for?" It was a strange, blathering sentence that had awkwardly undulated from his lips without the consent of his conscious mind. Albert felt like slapping a palm over his mouth in shock at the words that had been drawn from him by some, unknown force. </p><p>Sergei's eyebrows cocked up, a small smile playing at his scarred lips. He invited the younger man deeper into the room with a crooked finger. </p><p>Albert crossed the threshold, attempting to retain composure as he strode closer to the bed. Beneath the surface, every part of him was reeling.</p><p>"This..." He pointed to an elaborate, silver and gold commutation -- pressed with axes, a red star, and the head of a stern-looking man, "Is the Order of Alexander Nevsky. I received after 20 years of service."</p><p>Albert stepped slightly closer, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes scanned the various decorations.</p><p>"This is the Order of Suvorov." Sergei pointed to another, a gold, star-shaped medal, "For Afghanistan, after my platoon retook east Kabul." He waved his hand at another, a 10-pointed star in silver with a gold coin centred inside, "Also Order of Bogdan Khmelnitsky for that."</p><p>In his peripheral vision, Albert could see that Sergei was moving to his side slowly. He flicked his eyes downwards and noticed his legs were flanked on either side by polished boots -- to his left, Sergei's, to his right, the pair that had been sat at the foot of the bed for cleaning. He tried to keep the deep breath he drew in through his nose as silent as he could.</p><p>"Most of these are for war or time served..." He traced an imaginary circle around a number of ribbon-hung medals, each glimmering proudly. "But this..." Sergei reached down and picked up a circular-shaped medal affixed to a red ribbon, holding it up over Albert's chest. The coin was pressed with the image of a torch and book, but Albert couldn't make out or appreciate any of the finer details on the intricate medal as Sergei's massive arm lingered mere centimetres away from his breast, "This is my <em>narodnyy uchitel.</em>"</p><p>"Which is..." The words were a pathetic, cracked squeak Albert immediately regretted. </p><p>"I was a teacher for a little while... At the <em>Akademiya Nauk Sovetskogo Soyuza</em>. The old Communist school in Moscow." Sergei cocked his head downwards to meet Albert's shielded gaze, a smirk licking at his cheeks.</p><p>"Mmhm..."</p><p>The smirk grew into a devious smile, and Sergei dipped close to Albert's ear, hushing his voice to a whisper.</p><p>"Basically, they gave it to me for training some very <em>naughty</em> boys."</p><p>Albert hiccuped, immediately turning on the heels of his boots and striding towards the door in what was very nearly a hasty jog. Behind him, Sergei was bellowing a hearty laugh, one that followed Albert down the hall as he rushed in whatever direction his legs were willing to take him.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>"I know it is sometimes difficult to express our... hmm.. how do you say it..." Sergei tapped a brown-leather gloved finger against his chin as he searched for a word, good eye lighting up as he did, "Needs! To express our needs. But it is important to do, rather than let them grow and become <em>unmanageable</em>."</p><p>He sighed contentedly, leaning back in the reading chair as a soft smile pulled at his lips. </p><p>"And to think... so much of my own time wasted polishing! <em>Stydno</em>!" He clicked his tongue sarcastically, gaze dropping to meet the naked back of the man bowed deeply between his legs. </p><p>Albert was dutifully licking at Sergei's left boot, tongue running a flat streak of saliva across the soft, shiny leather of the toe, a trail of moisture following it up towards the ankle. Soft, delicate pants were escaping the younger man's lips, his eyes closed as euphoric shockwaves tickled at his belly, cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink.</p><p>Albert had submitted faster than anticipated, with far less prompting. Sergei had been somewhat surprised when the younger man had come to his room at all, certain the vague request for his presence would be denied or at least resisted. Instead, Albert had arrived just as he was fastening the final button of his uniform coat, the Brit's words audibly catching in his throat as his attempt at a sarcastic greeting was cut short by the sight. </p><p>His face had almost immediately taken on a red haze, Adams apple bobbing over the unbuttoned collar of his dark blue shirt as eyes frantically pinned their way over Sergei's meticulously-dressed figure. He looked almost exactly as he had in the photo, the only discernible difference being the silver shade of his hair and that, if anything, complimented the gold of the elaborately embroidered peaked cap even more. </p><p>Albert hadn't even tried to feign confusion or any other emotion he would have at least attempted to mask his awkward silence with under normal circumstances. And when Sergei had strode towards him and grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him through the threshold of the room and slamming the door behind them, he had known it was far too late to challenge the man on what was a clear-as-day fact. </p><p>
  <em>"You'll be a good boy for me tonight, da?"</em>
</p><p>Sergei had been pleased with the younger man when he had stripped upon being ordered -- rewarding him with a deep, rough, tongue-filled kiss that had immediately prompted Albert's erection to jut against the rough fabric of Sergei's uniform trousers. </p><p>He was even more pleased when Albert had willingly dropped to his knees between his boots, following the instruction to worship them with a small hesitation only caused by his own lusty haziness of mind.</p><p>They'd stayed in relative silence from that moment, Albert occupying his tongue and lips with the leather exterior of his knee-high dress boots, and Sergei basking in the orchestra of soft, moist lapping intersecting with the rustle of a dusk breeze through trees beyond his closed window. </p><p>Sergei reached down gracefully, gloved fingers knotting their way into a tuft of Albert's blonde hair and pulling him up to a sitting kneel, dropping the younger man's chin in his lap. He grinned widely at the tiny gasp that he'd prompted from the sudden action, Albert's foggy, pale-blue eyes fluttering up at him in confusion as he caught his bearings, hand kneading at the thick fabric of Sergei's dress pants. </p><p>The Russian reached over to the small table beside his chair, pulling open the wooden drawer and retrieving a black marker from the stationary contents inside.</p><p>The cap <em>popped</em> off sweetly. Albert closed his eyes, eyebrow twitching, when the rough felt tip prod at his forehead. Rough strokes carved their way across his pale flesh, marring it with black ink. Sergei began at his right temple, and ended at his left, chuckling in self-satisfied arrogance at his work as he capped the marker once again and tossed it back into the drawer.</p><p>"There!" </p><p>Albert opened his eyes slowly, just barely able to see his own reflection in the gold buckle of the thick leather belt looped around Sergei's waist.</p><p>
  <strong>Я шлюха!</strong>
</p><p>"This says <em>ya shlyukha.</em>" Sergei grinned, finger patting its way across the Cyrillic characters as he sounded them out, "I am a whore." He translated.</p><p>Albert swallowed hard, Adams apple scratching against the rough fabric covering Sergei's hips. </p><p>"You are a whore, aren't you, <em>Alshka</em>?" He scooped the younger man's chin up in one tremendous hand, squeezing his cheeks slightly as he sardonically glared deep into his eyes, "You agree?"</p><p>"Mmmph." </p><p>"What's that?" Sergei cocked his head to the side comically, squeezing Albert's cheeks slightly harder and forcing him to use more effort to enunciate a response.</p><p>"Y-yesh, shir."</p><p>Albert gasped when his cheeks were released, a slight throb playing through the flesh as circulation was restored. A yelp quickly followed as Sergei planted the tread of one of his boots on his chest, pushing him roughly until he fell from his sloppy kneel flat onto his back. The boot dragged down his abdomen, pulling along the flesh cruelly with a sunken heel, leaving a red trail in its wake. Albert's belly was fluttering with jagged breaths, tiny whimpers and moans playing through his lips as he felt Sergei's heel begin to prod into the curvature of his thigh.</p><p>"Such a dirty boy." Sergei chided mockingly, twisting the toe of his boot to prod at Albert's strained erection, "I would have pulled out my uniform long ago had I known it was how to get you under control."</p><p>Albert whimpered shakily, hand involuntarily slipping up to grab at the boot pushing into his arousal, trembling fingers dancing along the rounded toe reverently. Droplets of precum began to accumulate on the leather as it kneaded over the desperate organ, pushing and rolling it over his foot in amusement.</p><p>"Leaking like a little pig, hmm?" The older man smirked, "You will clean my boots again later." </p><p>Every sarcastic, biting jeer stoked the bonfire that had ignited between Albert's hips, the flames dancing upwards and licking at the bottom of his lungs, making it hard to breathe.   He shuddered, not realising his eyes had been clenched shut until they fluttered open to gaze towards Sergei's scarred face, devilishness embedded in every pore. </p><p>"Sit back up, <em>Alshka</em>. Kneel for me." He spoke the order calmly, deep voice rolling across the syllables as his boot lifted from Albert's erection to a blissful sigh of relief from the younger man as he struggled to regain his composure.</p><p>Complying the moment his lust-drunk mind would allow him, Albert shakily sat up, shuffling his knees beneath him again until he was between the Sergei's legs. The man had propped his cheek on his fist, elbow on the chair's arm, and was condescendingly peering down his nose at him.</p><p>"Take it out."</p><p>Albert slowly pushed up the fabric of Sergei's uniform jacket, fingers fumbling awkwardly as they unfastened the short trail of gold buttons that closed the front of the pants. When enough had been opened, he slipped his hand into the fabric entrance and gripped softly at the thick, hard erection that was contained within. The rosey flush on his cheeks burned so hot he felt as though his face was going numb.</p><p>"How many have fucked your sweet little mouth, <em>Alshka</em>?" Sergei pursed his lips in amusement, "Or do you wait until a man in a uniform is around to drop to your knees?"</p><p>Albert couldn't even whimper a response, eyes fixated on the organ he'd drawn from the confines of the dress pants. Sergei was massive -- his arousal carrying a noticeable weight in his hand, heat rolling off of the flesh with plumes of a strong, masculine musk. Albert felt practically intoxicated, air sitting heavily in his lungs. </p><p>"Kiss it, <em>shlyukha." </em>Sergei's voice dropped to a husky drawl, and he sat back in the chair with a comfortable grunt.</p><p>Ragged breaths escaped Albert's lips as they met the firm, warm flesh before him. They began to tingle, pinpricks of sensations fluttering across them as goosebumps plucked at the back of his neck. He planted another soft caress against it without prompting, then another. His tongue involuntarily rolled out and dragged its tip across the girth softly.</p><p>Sergei's head lulled back on the chair as Albert began to trail the length of his arousal, intersecting kisses with little, kitten-esque licks. The younger man's lips began to close around sections of flesh, pulling at them with a deep, toothy suck before pulling away and beginning again. He worked his way from the centre of the shaft down to the top of Sergei's balls, tongue lapping at the softer flesh hungrily as his hand slowly stroked the length of the cock he was momentarily neglecting, using the moisture left behind by his tiny caresses and sucks as lubricant. </p><p>His tongue flatly painted its way over each large fruit, tiny moans escaping his lips as he took in Sergei's flavour graciously. Above him, Sergei was sucking breaths through his teeth, the leather of his glove squeaking and crunching as he kneaded the armrest of the chair.</p><p>"All of it..." It was a mutter that was borderline a growl, a rough, passionate demand that immediately prompted a groan from Albert as he drew his lips away from the sacred flesh he'd been worshipping dutifully. </p><p>There was no delicacy or gracefulness possible when taking Sergei in his mouth, the man's massive girth stretching his lips perversely. He felt strain at the corners as he pushed himself forward, tongue circling the tip excitedly as it entered. He began to struggle, the size proving to be a greater challenge than he had anticipated. </p><p>"Do you need some assistance, comrade?"</p><p>Suddenly, Sergei grabbed the back of Albert's head roughly, a tuft of blonde hair gripped tightly between eager fingers. Albert's eyes shot open, hands circling around each of the older man's thick calves and squeezing them tightly in a meagre protest he knew wouldn't amount to anything.</p><p>"<em>Nyet, nyet</em>." Sergei chuckled, "Your whore throat can take it."</p><p>He began to push roughly, sinking Albert over the length of his cock with a wilful disregard for the other man's comfort. The ragged, desperate jerking of Albert's throat muscles contracting around him in anxiety was a delicious sensation, and he hissed a groan at the chokes and gags that only served to stimulate him even more. </p><p>"So tight!" Sergei jeered happily, "Almost like fucking a virgin!"</p><p>As precum began to drool from his cock, Albert's throat became easier to use, the grip he had on the back of the man's head functioning as a handle with which to violate him. He pushed and pulled at his head roughly, savouring the tightness of the throat which sought to reject him, hips sometimes bucking upwards involuntarily as he found a methodic rhythm. Albert was struggling to breathe, face flushing a deep red as the rare wisp of oxygen sucked through his nose failed to sustain his anxious lungs. </p><p>Sergei forced himself to pull the boy up enough to give him a moment to recoup, harsh wheezing slowly bubbling into desperate gasps signalling to Sergei he was well-enough to continue. Again, he pushed himself in deeply, a loud, breathy sigh of delight escaping him, belly fluttering in euphoria. </p><p>Saliva and cum began to leak onto his hips, soaking into the green material of his uniform as it dribbled from Albert's strained lips pathetically, leaving dark stains and pools of fluid. The filthy squelching noises </p><p>"Touch yourself!" Sergei ordered between pants, watching in devilish glee as one of Albert's hands immediately dropped from his leg and moved to wrap around his flushed, weeping cock, stroking it desperately. The contractions of his throat began to intersect with moans, back bucking as his imminent orgasm boiled to the surface. </p><p>The two climaxed simultaneously.</p><p>Albert came on the floor, tendrils of white contrasting perversely against the dark tiles. He was barely able to focus on his own release, Sergei pushing his face into his hips as hard as he was able to in order to plant his cock deep in the tight throat, pouring his impressive load into Albert's stomach with a gasp. His ability to breathe was further obscured by the nest of neat, silver hair he was buried in, and surrendering to the sensation of drowning wasn't one he was able to do easily. He clutched at Sergei's pant legs and boots, clawing at the leather and fabric in anguish, waiting for the end to come.</p><p>Sergei's fingers loosened their grip on the back of Albert's head, palm stroking the patch of hair he'd gripped far too tightly for far too long in an effort to soothe the reddened scalp. Albert pulled away the moment he felt the hand leave, heaves immediately wracking his body as he worked to swallow the seed that had coated his throat thickly. </p><p>Sergei sighed deeply, a grin pulling his flushed cheeks away from his teeth as he watched Albert sputter and cough on the cum lingering in his throat.</p><p>"Bravo."</p><p>His fingers went to the brim of his peaked cap, long tendrils of silver hair cascading over his face as he pulled it off. Reaching out casually and fitting it atop Albert's head with an amused chuckle, he flashed a bright, white smile that sent a glitter through his good eye. The younger man looked up at him with cocked eyebrows, cleaning his lips with the back of his hand sloppily. His lips were numb, jaw aching terribly as he cracked it with a hiss. </p><p>"Now you clean my uniform, <em>da</em>?" Sergei chirped giddily, holding back a laugh as Albert's fingers began to prod and wipe at the writing on his forehead.</p><p>"This better not be permanent marker, Sergei." He said, voice cracking from the abuse as he checked the digits for the traces of black ink which didn't <em>quite</em> seem to be transferring to them.</p><p>"Do you want to do it now or later?"</p><p>"<strong>Sergei</strong>."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In case anyone is curious, this would be the kind of Uniform Sergei would be wearing in this fic:</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="http://www.undertheredstar.com/Periods/1970em.jpg">Click here!</a>
</p><p> </p><p>Just with different embroidery and medals.</p><p>And uhhhh -- I HOPE THIS CAME OUT OKAY. &gt;_&gt; I am not good at writing I am sorry.</p><p>Thanks to me_Magaret for prompting this fic :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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